The Hound of Rowan (7 page)

“Hey there!” Nigel's voice sounded a bit worried. “Max? David? Open up, boys, and let's have a look. Boys?”

They galloped back along the balconies and swung open the door. Nigel stood outside with the Irish boy, Connor.

“Oh, thank goodness! Had me worried there that you'd gone and lost yourselves! Mind if I have a peek? I'm always curious how these configurations turn out—never seen two the same.”

As Nigel entered the room, he froze and scanned the threshold.

“No vomit. Well done, gentlemen! These are new loafers, after all!”

He stepped past them and gasped.

“Oh, this is
wonderful
! Much more inspiring than my old room! I begged to switch the god-awful thing. You would, too, if you'd gotten a Mongolian yurt!”

Max and David savored their triumph as Nigel poked around, muttering the occasional “Would you look at that!” and “Those lucky devils!”

Connor Lynch stepped in after Nigel and stood gaping at the ceiling. His bright blue eyes blinked in wonder, and he delivered an impressed thumbs-up to Max and David before stepping back into the hallway. A minute later, Nigel sauntered up the steps, shaking his head and scowling at the two of them.

“I don't want to hear even a
peep
of complaint from you two for the next six years! Oh, my wife would kill for those bookcases, you scoundrels! I'll never understand how this old Manse works.” He threw his hands up with feigned disgust, brushing past them into the hallway, where the others were now darting in packs to explore the various rooms in a chorus of shouts and slamming doors. Max and David peered in at a medieval bedchamber high atop a tower and a Japanese temple before stumbling into a very plain room across the hall.

They looked around in awkward silence. Connor was lingering in the room alone; his roommates had apparently left to explore. The only sounds came from a small fire sputtering in a modest brick hearth. The room was not any bigger than the bare room Max had entered before the configuration. Narrow wooden bunk beds were stacked beneath a low, flat ceiling of dark beams. The room was otherwise furnished with only one small desk and a red rocker positioned near the fireplace. Two small windows were cut through the plaster walls. They looked onto a lazy, sunlit meadow dotted with wildflowers.

Nigel poked his head in and broke the silence.

“A cozy little nook to hang your hat in, eh, Mr. Lynch?”

“Yeah, Nigel, home sweet home. Not a traffic-stopper, but it'll do.”

Connor hopped up onto one of the top bunks and dangled his legs over the side, grinning at them defiantly. Max liked him immediately.

“C'mon, boys,” said Nigel. “Help me round up the others, and let's get back to the foyer.”

Nigel hurried down the hall as Max, David, and Connor looked down into a sunken room that appeared to be the captain's quarters of a luxurious galleon. Three large portholes showed a distant sunset and dark blue waves lapped at the glass. The room's four occupants were laughing as they sat on the cozy beds that were sunk into deep alcoves. Sea chests and old maps and bright yellow lanterns were scattered about. Connor spoke up just as a brightly colored fish leapt past one of the portholes.

“Hey—Nigel wants us out there. Come on.”

The boys nodded and took turns climbing up the brass ladder.

“Honestly,” said Connor as they filed past, “if any of you boys get the wobblies down there, just let me know and we can swap out. You there!” He shot a finger at the last boy to climb out. “You're lookin' awfully pasty. We should probably switch rooms, mate.”

“Never!” shouted the boy, running after Nigel.

Connor sighed and fell in step with Max and David. By this time, Nigel had managed to gather most of the class back near the staircase.

“Right, then, congratulations on completing your configurations. You're a lucky lot, you know. Some of the chaps in my class got stuck with a dungeon, a moldy wine cellar, and a chicken roost!”

“But, Nigel,” said a boy, “
how
did the rooms change? Did you change them?”

Nigel shook his head.

“Dear me, no. This is Old Magic—far older and far stronger than anything Nigel Bristow can conjure up. But more of the Manse and Old Magic after dinner.”

The chimes began just as Nigel herded them down the stairs.

                  
5                  

E
VILS
O
LD AND
N
EW

T
he boys and girls met outside by the fountain, where room configurations were discussed in a buzz of competing voices. Max found it hard to keep track as he overheard breathless girls talking about a pharaoh's throne room carved with hieroglyphics and snug lodges in the mountains. Nigel stood near him looking bemused while Miss Awolowo shielded a tall, plump red-haired girl from the onrush of a petite black-haired girl who stabbed an accusatory finger while muttering in her native language. The red-haired girl looked miserable.

“What happened with them?” Max asked Nigel.

“Oh—happens every year. Roommates blaming one another for how their rooms turned out during the configuration. My Italian's atrocious, but I believe Lucia is upset over the leaky hovel they'll be sharing. Thinks it's all Cynthia's fault—something about an English preference for miserable weather…”

Nigel frowned and glanced at Max.

“That last part's not true, by the way. We merely
cope
with miserable weather—we cope out of sheer necessity!”

Miss Awolowo restored order with a calm snippet in Italian that left Lucia in smoldering silence. Nigel took his leave as Miss Awolowo addressed the group.

“All right. Now that the configurations are complete—Lucia, stop that!—we'll take a brief tour of Rowan's grounds before we have supper. If you'd please follow me to the orchard…”

They walked around to the back of the Manse, passing between low hedges thick with flowers, and arriving at a large stone patio. Just beyond the patio, separated by a strip of lawn, were long rows of apple trees. Max walked along with Connor and David as Miss Awolowo gathered the group by the closest tree.

“The apples!” a girl exclaimed. “They're made of gold!”

Max looked up to see a number of small apples that appeared to be cast of gold. Jesse Chu slipped past Max and stood on his tiptoes to reach one of them.

“Do
not
touch that apple!”

Jesse recoiled as if he had been stung. Miss Awolowo slipped past several students, lifting the hem of her dress above the grass.

“Forgive me for startling you, Jesse, but these trees are sacred. Let me explain a bit about the Rowan orchard. Omar, will you please read that plaque for me?”

A dark-skinned, studious-looking boy with glasses bent down and read the stone tablet embedded at the base of the tree.

“
Fiat Lux
—Class of 1653.”

“Thank you. Does anyone know the expression or why we are looking at this tree?”

A tall blond boy, whose nametag said he was Rolf from Düsseldorf, raised his hand. Max thought he must be at least fourteen.

“
Fiat Lux
is Latin,” Rolf said in a heavy German accent. “It's translated ‘Let there be light.' According to the brochure, 1653 is when Rowan graduated its first class.”

Miss Awolowo smiled; the boy looked very pleased with himself.

“Very good, Rolf—correct on both counts. This is a sacred tree—a Class Tree representing Rowan's very first graduating class. They chose
Fiat Lux
for their class motto, as they arrived here in a time of great darkness. There is a sacred tree in this orchard for every class at Rowan.

“Every year, a Class Tree will bear one apple for each living member of that class. When a member of that class has passed on, his or her apple turns to gold. Thus we remember them, and these apples we do not touch. Take a few moments and walk among them.”

Fanning out with the others, Max threaded his way through the rows of trees whose golden apples gleamed brightly in the summer sun. He tried to imagine the people they represented and what they had made of their lives. After a few moments, he noticed that gold glinted from most of the trees, including some of the younger ones.

Miss Awolowo called, and they continued through the orchard and into a dense wood of ash, oak, maple, and beech. Sunlight twinkled through the leaves as they followed a meandering path through the trees before stopping at a long, low building set in a small clearing. Its windows were dark, but small puffs of white smoke issued from a chimney.

“This is the Smithy,” said Miss Awolowo, pointing at a formidable-looking door of black iron. “As Apprentices, you will not yet take Devices, but during the school year you may have occasion to visit.”

Connor mouthed the word “Devices?” at Max with a quizzical look. Max shrugged with a smile as Rolf shot his hand in the air.

“Speaking of classes—when do we get our class schedules? My parents insisted that I'm to be enrolled in advanced math.”

Max saw Lucia roll her eyes.

“Class assignments will be distributed tomorrow, Rolf,” Miss Awolowo answered.

She continued their tour through the forest, pointing out notable trees and deflecting questions regarding the small side paths that veered off the main way to disappear into the thick undergrowth. There were several of these, and Max was curious about them. David paused so long at one that Max had to trot back to pull him along.

“Wait a minute,” said David, fishing in his pockets.

“C'mon,” said Max, watching the tour disappear beyond a bend in the path.

David retrieved a coin from his pocket. He scratched at the soil and buried the coin beneath the twisty root of a sagging elm. Apparently satisfied, he brushed the dirt from his hands and hurried with Max after the others.

“Why'd you do that?” asked Max.

David did not seem to hear him.

As they rounded the bend, Max heard the neighing of horses. Miss Awolowo and their classmates were circling around several long buildings and a fenced ring where a dozen unsaddled horses capered about. Beyond the buildings was a high, mossy wall with a heavy door. The wall continued out of sight; the hedge and trees behind it were very tall. Max wanted to go through the door, but Miss Awolowo kept them moving, calling out over her shoulder as she went.

“These are Rowan's stables. Beyond that wall is the Sanctuary—you'll be visiting it tomorrow. No time to stop now. Please keep up!”

The children hurried after her. She waited for them on a path that curved out of the forest and led back to the main campus. Emerging into the sunlight, Max gazed at the Manse and orchard far away to his right across the clipped lawns. The group continued along the forest's edge and gathered at a rocky outcropping above the sea.

“Wow,” said Connor, reaching the edge before Max and looking down.

Max looked over his shoulder to see a large ship with three masts, creaking as it bobbed slightly in the waves. Well over a hundred feet long and looking very old, it was anchored to a long dock with a heavy chain. A rough stone staircase led down from where they stood to the narrow, rocky beach below. Max strained to hear Miss Awolowo's voice over the wind.

“That, children, is the
Kestrel.
You'll be hearing more about her tonight.”

She waved to a tall man stacking driftwood down on the beach and herded the class away from the water, back toward two imposing buildings. They were made of gray stone and faced south on the lawns between the Manse and the beach. The class approached along their long shadows cast by the sun sinking over the woods to the west.

Max found the buildings foreboding as he approached; they loomed high above him, and their many windows were still and dark. The farther one had a tall clock tower topped by a turret and a fluttering copper weathervane. The children jumped as the clock boomed six. Miss Awolowo waited for the chimes to cease.

“These are Maggie and Old Tom, our main academic buildings. You will have most of your classes here. Old Tom's our timekeeper, too; his chimes will often tell you where you need to be. Right now, he's telling us we're expected at the kitchens. It's been a busy afternoon and you all must be hungry. Please follow me.”

Max walked and chatted with David and Connor as the three trailed the group back to the Manse.

“It's my first time out of Dublin, much less here in the States,” Connor said, taking long strides with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “I suppose the two of you live in mansions back home, eh?”

David Menlo laughed. “Yeah. My mansion's got four wheels. My mom and I live in a trailer.”

Connor shrugged and turned to Max.

“How 'bout you, then? You live in a mansion?”

“No. My dad and I live in a regular house…. We're not rich,” he added defensively.

“You got a computer?” asked Connor.

“Yeah.”

“You got a car?”

“My dad does.”

“You got a job?”

Max looked at him, confused. “No.”

“Congratulations, Max, you're rich!”

Connor ran ahead to catch up with some girls. A moment later, they were all giggling. Max flushed and turned to David.

“What do you think he meant by all that ‘you're rich' stuff?”

David shrugged. “I don't know—probably nothing. Connor's weird. He tried to bet me that he'd get Lucia to kiss him before school starts.”

“Not a chance,” Max muttered as he watched Connor walking next to Lucia and gesturing wildly. Lucia looked bored.

As Max and David strolled past the fountain, Miss Awolowo was waiting in the Manse's doorway. She tapped her watch.

“
Please
try to keep up, you two. Mum and Bob have been working very hard to prepare dinner for us, and your classmates are hungry. We might lose an orchard apple to Jesse if we're not quick!”

She laughed and led them to join the others in a great hall off the foyer filled with glistening portraits. From there they descended some stone steps that curved down and down until they arrived at a large dining hall. The hall's vaulted ceiling was hung with massive chandeliers, and the long room was furnished with many wooden tables and benches. Light, steam, and noise issued from a pair of swinging doors, at the far end.

“Now, children,” said Miss Awolowo, leading them to the swinging doors, “I want to warn you that Mum and Bob are not your typical chefs….”

Max and David glanced at each other.

“They can be a bit startling at first glance, but I promise you'll grow to love them.”

As they got closer, Max heard another woman's urgent whisper from beyond the doors.

“Quiet, Bob! Put that pot down! Shhh! I think they're here! Ooh! I can practically
taste
them!”

“Shush yourself, Mum!” rumbled a deep voice with a strange accent. “I hear them, too. You remember to behave!”

The students froze as they heard a bloodcurdling giggle from just behind the door. A pear-shaped boy, who was closest, whimpered and edged away. Miss Awolowo stepped past him.

“Mum? Bob? It's Ndidi. Could you come out, please, and meet the new class?”

The pear-shaped boy scurried to the back as the woman's voice cackled and shrieked. “Oh, they're here, they're here! The darlings are here!”